Becoming the Wolf, pt. 5

Two hours into my dosage and already the pain is returning. It doesn’t creep up slowly, either, but swarms over my nervous system like wasps. I did nothing to deserve this, yet they keep stinging me.

The doctors have no clue what’s wrong with me -- test after test reveals nothing about my condition and only frustrates me in the end. Not only that, the but tests are becoming more painful, requiring anesthetics wherever possible. I have been given many different drugs, tried physical therapy, and even homeopathic medicines and practices to no avail. My doctor has stated that if we can't figure out what's going on, I'm just going to have to go to pain management.

I curl up on my side, hugging my waist, and tuck my head inwards. My plan is to ride it out for another hour. Take half my normal dose, then take the rest when I am supposed to and call the doctor.



When I open my eyes again, it is because I am chilled to the core. Pain from my illness is a distant memory -- all I know now is the cold. My breath fogs before me. Obscures the close - up view of the grass I am lying in. The blades jab at my skin, as they are frosted over, but I only barely feel it.

Night is falling now in this alternate world. The wolf waits for me still, sitting primly, only a few feet away but I feel I must find shelter or clothes. Anything to make me warmer. But my muscles convulse too much to be of any use and there are no buildings around anyway.

I lay here for what seems like hours. Days. All the while that bastard wolf sits and watches. Occasionally it will yawn as if it is bored of waiting on this dying human. I can feel everything start to shut down, but I still wonder why it hasn’t tried to eat me yet.

“What do you want from me, dog?”

He gives no response, and instead lies down just out of my reach.



“You just need to trust her.”

I blink. Across from me, at my kitchen table, is the Dwarf from the diner. I don't remember how we got here.

“I...what?”

“Need to trust her.”

“No,” I shake my head. “How did you get in here?”

He cocks his head to the side and narrows his left eye.

“I was just...with the wolf...” I look behind me.

“We’ve been talking for twenty minutes.”

I sigh and bury my face in my hands. The medicine is making me light headed and I'm beginning to wonder if I just took too much.

How long have I been out?

“How am I supposed to know? I didn’t even know you were fucked up.”

I look up. “I said that out loud?”

“Look,” he says, climbing out of the chair. His head only has an inch showing above the table. “Get some rest, okay? You look like shit.” He hobbles over to the front door, letting himself out. Standing halfway out into the hall, he eyes me and frowns. “And whenever you run into Sirrah again, just...just trust her, okay?”

I do not watch the door shut. Instead I turn to sit numbly at the table, wondering what else I have done that I don't remember. The sensation was so strange--first I was freezing to death, and suddenly I appear at my kitchen table? Maybe...

Maybe I just need to get out more...

Becoming the Wolf, pt. 4

I carefully set the mug on the table. "I just wasn't expecting anyone to be there."

The man leans a little closer to me. "You are high as fuck, aren't you?"

"I'm on a prescribed medication, yes," I sit a little straighter.

Suddenly he howls with laughter, smacking the table with his hand. I sit quietly, just watching as he turns red and tears up slightly. When he finally calms down he shakes his head and holds his hands up in surrender. "I'm sorry--that's just some funny shit. Here you are, all doped up, and a fucking Dwarf sits down at your table!"

I smile wide, the first real one in a while. "I do have to admit, you caught me off guard."

The man laughs again, controlled this time. "My name is Hank," he extends his hand and I take it.

"Bill."

Over his shoulder, I see Shirley coming with my food, just as Hank's phone goes off.

"I have to take this, sorry."

I give him a wave to say that I don't mind, and he hops off the seat--nearly colliding with the waitress. He gracefully recovers, however, dodging her legs as he walks cleanly beneath her arm. Since the tray hid him from her line of sight, I'm confident she is unaware of him.

"Here you go, hon. Sorry I can't stay and talk today," she gives a genuine expression of remorse. I try to calm her with a smile.

"It's alright--I've got company this time anyway."

Remorse turns to confusion as she turns to face the empty seat across from me. She moves only her eyes to look back at me.

"He's outside on the phone right now," I chuckle. "I promise I'm not that crazy--yet."

She smiles sweetly--relieved--and pats my shoulder as she darts back into the kitchen.

Soon after, Hank sits back down. He's a little more somber now. I wait for him to speak first.

"Anyway," he says as he tucks his cellphone into an inside pocket. "I wanted mainly to introduce myself."

"Oh...okay."

He smiles with only the side of his mouth. "You'll be seeing me again, Bill."

I open my mouth to speak, but Shirley comes out of nowhere. She leans across the table to reach my coffee, obscuring my view of the Dwarf, and when she stands back up, he is gone.

"Where's this friend of yours?" she asks, still pouring my coffee.

"I...I'm not sure. I think he left."

She frowns. "I'm sorry."

"No," I shake my head, smiling slightly. "Don't be. I'll see him again."

Shirley hangs onto a look of concern and watches me as I get up. I drop the same amount of money on the table as I always do and briefly touch her shoulder as I leave.

Becoming the Wolf, pt. 3

I have been instructed to get out of the house every once in awhile, so every Thursday I head down to the diner on Third Street. It is within walking distance so I am able to be medicated when I go. They have decent coffee. The waitress knows my name.

"Heya, sweetie. Sit where you like and I'll getchya in a sec, kay?" Shirley flashes her teeth and buzzes away.

The booth in the corner looks nice. Without saying a word, Armand passes my table, leaving a cup of coffee in his wake. I warm my hands on the mug.

Suddenly, Shirley is back again, a stack of plates fanned down her arm. She has a grin from ear to ear and asks, "The usual?"

"Surely." I lift the corners of my mouth, and she giggles as she walks away.

The place is busy for a Thursday morning, but the low roar of the crowd is almost comforting as it makes it easy to hide. I feel safe in my booth, even in my weakened state. As I drink my coffee, I close my eyes. The drugs must be stimulating endorphins or something because every inch of my body feels wonderful, and I can't stop thinking about how amazing this coffee is.

I'm just not used to it yet, I tell myself. In time it will stop working like the rest. But for now, even that thought has beauty in it.

I hold the mug up a little longer so I can take in the scent of the brew. Lowering it, however, reveals another person at my booth. A little person.

"What're you starin' at?" he says. "Never seen a Dwarf before?"

Becoming the Wolf, pt. 2

"...have you get up and move around for me, okay?"

"Wh...what?"

Ms. Donell, one of the nurses, rests her fingertips on my shoulder. Always balancing perfectly between personal and professional. "We have to make sure you can walk."

I get up, still groggy, and shuffle a bit around the recovery area.

"Good! Good. How do you feel, honey?"

"Drugged," I mumble.

She flashes a bright smile and giggles a little before directing me to the door. One of the EMTs stands there.

"Blake here is going to make sure you get home okay. You have everything?"

I reach into my pockets, not remembering getting dressed, and find my wallet and my keys. I bob my head for her.

"Alright then, Mr. Welks, we will get the results back to you as soon as possible. He's all yours, Blake."

He nods once and like that I'm at home. We talked about something, but I don't remember what. I had dropped my keys what felt like a hundred times, but I can't recall if he picked them up or not. I only briefly ponder the location of my pants before I fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Excruciating pain jolts me awake and I instinctively reach for the pills beside my bed. I lay back, waiting for their effect, but I can't help but think about it. The sensation arcs across my whole body. Touches every inch, pounds in my ears, wraps around my lungs. While I don't want to feel it, I still close my eyes and trace its path.

It didn't take long for my thoughts to center around the wolf. Was that a dream? Did I die for a moment? If it was a dream, where did it come from? As the medication seeps into my veins, however, I loose the ability to hold the vision of those eyes in my mind. Until, finally, the waves of narcotics wash over me.


The air is freezing.

Why am I naked?

Only a minute passes before I see it again, but it is only a shadow in the mist.

In posture alone, I feel it. Come, it begs me. It is only a suggestion. It is more than enough. Shivering, I stumble through the dew-blued grass closer to this beast; I don't know his motives, but still I obey.

The wolf twists away from me, disappearing for a moment before backtracking. It turns back around. Watches me over its shoulder. When I get within ten feet of him, it starts walking again.

Where is it taking me?

For awhile I ponder how amazingly stupid I must be for following this giant predator. How easy I'm making this for it. Soon, however, the cold sinks into my skin and I can no longer think. Three steps and I collapse.

The wolf stops and looks down at me. I look up at it, but its silver-blue eyes see all of my soul, and I tuck my head to my chest.

When the pain starts again it is far away, but creeps closer and closer until it swallows me whole.

My hand shoots again to the pills beside my bed.

Becoming the Wolf, pt. 1

Every year in November is an event called NaNoWriMo or National Novel Writing Month. The goal is to write 50,000 words in 30 days. While I have not had a lot of success with this (I only completed 1 out of 4 years), I still got some interesting stuff, I think. "Becoming the Wolf" was my attempt this year. It's fairly long, and I'll have to add to it as I haven't finished it yet, so I'm going to post segments of it at a time. Let me know how you like it, and maybe I'll do this again with another story.


From my position, all I see is a parade of fluorescent lights on the ceiling, but I still know when to brace for the bump the gurney always hits on the way to the operating room.

"Sorry, Mr. Wilkes," Rich says, the same pained expression as every time.

I say nothing, but give a reassuring twitch of my mouth.

When we pull into the OR, I look around for a second. "Oh, I see we got the big room today."

"Only the best for you, Jack," the surgeon says, walking up to the gurney. Her voice is muffled slightly by the mask on her face, but over the top of it her eyes portray a practiced look of concern. "How are you feeling, anyway?"

"Oh, the same."

"Same shit, different day, huh?"

I smile up at her, never having heard her curse before, and wonder just how few patients have had the privilege. "Yes, Ma'am."

The skin crinkles slightly beside her eyes. "Well maybe this time we can figure everything out and fix you up."

"Tired of seeing me already, doc? And I was just getting used to it here."

A polite round of laughs.

The crinkles deepen for a moment, then she nods to Rich. A few seconds later, I smell and taste something like rubbing alcohol and then the world fades to black.



Cold. Everything is cold. Everything but my face, which is alternately warm, wet, then cold over and over until I open my eyes. And shriek. Some kind of dog was licking me, but my reaction caused it to jump. I think for a moment that I was just being skittish, and so I laugh at myself, but then I take a second look at it.

This beast is the size of a bear.

For a moment, I am terrified, but soon I notice its eyes. It is that same look of concern the doctor gave me. How long ago was that?

The look was quickly replaced by another, but this one more difficult to read. It doesn't matter anyway as he turns away and pads into the fog.